


A Welcome Distraction

by calenhads



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, I hope you like this!, Implied Sexual Content, anyway this took entirely too long, i think??? judge for yo self i guess!, it was SUPPOSED to be angsty...but that didn't happen, me last year: i don't like burke, me this year: i will protect burke with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenhads/pseuds/calenhads
Summary: Don’t complicate things. That’s what Whitehorse had said, almost demanded. Ramona was never one to follow others advice, least of all his.





	A Welcome Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllariaSand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllariaSand/gifts).



> this is gift for my very best friend! <3 i hope i did your baby & and her for real boo at least SOME justice!

“Vargas,” the voice on the other end of the phone sounded a million miles away, barely audible over the ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes suppressing a sigh or a moan – she’s done a lot of both within the last few hours – from escaping her lips as Burke’s own peeled off the flesh of her shoulder, trailing to land just behind her ear.

And just like that the undeniable flutter in her stomach returned, her mind clouded in an instant. She was somewhere on cloud nine, in complete bliss in that moment.

“Yeah,” Ramona barely recognized her own voice, still heavy with sleep, or the lack of it, it would seem. She could have killed Burke when he smiled against her skin, teeth gently grazing against the heated flesh.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

“Yeah, Whitehorse, I did.” Earl signed on the other end of the line, a muffled acknowledgement that sounded scornful to her ears.

Her eyes fluttered closed once again, her bosses voice but a distant memory as Burke trailed his lips down the back of her neck again, dipping his head to nip at the red marks he had left but hours before. She reveled in the feel for a moment longer than she had intended remembering the way his nails had dug into the heated flesh, goosebumps formed as she replayed the moan that had escaped his lips in that moment.

“Just get here, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

_How could I have forgotten?_ As if ripped from her thoughts, her eyes snapped open, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating with every new kiss Burke bestowed upon her shoulders and the middle of her back.

She hadn’t, that’s how. This room was a distraction. A welcome reprieve from the endless stacks of paperwork, the stench of reheated coffee, from the complains of the townsfolk, and away from those fucking Seeds.

The Yellow Tin Inn, otherwise an eye sore for the community, and known spot for drug dealings, overdoses and the occasional paid companion, had become somewhat of a sanctuary for Ramona in the past weeks. A welcome distraction, but she knew it was more than that.

“Yes, sir.” Ramona swatted at the Burke with her free hand, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

With a grin Burke flopped to the other side of her and she was half disappointed, with the warm weight of him gone she could feel the chill in the room. She tried to ignore him as he propped himself up on one elbow, the other hand resting on the small of her back, thumbing the heated skin gently.

“Don’t be late. The _both_ of you.” Ramona’s face burned, Whitehorse’s use of the word punctuated with a hint of what sounded like disdain. Not for her, she’s sure, but for what they were doing. There was no such thing as secrets in a town as small as Hope County and that extended to it's small police force. They knew as well as Whitehorse how this would end. How _they_ would end.

_Don’t complicate things_. That’s what Whitehorse had said, almost demanded. Ramona was never one to follow others advice, least of all his.

The undeniable click on the other end of the line signaled the end of their talk and she felt like she could breathe again, her own phone was thrown somewhere on the floor when she buried her face in the cheap, itchy, rumbled sheets. They still smelled of him; that shitty aftershave she had told him to stop using, her favorite beer – that had been spilled the night before – and sex.

She only turned her head to look at him when he trailed his fingers lower, the tips ghosting over the low hanging sheet to the swell of her rump and she shivered, that fog in her head rolling back in.

“He didn’t sound very happy.” The grin on Burke’s face grew wider, that undeniable glint in his eye.

Ramona’s own tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Can you blame him?” It sounded a little more accusatory than intended. “We’re supposed to be setting up a rendezvous- “

A short laugh, so soft she almost did hear it, passed from between Burke’s lips.

“Come on, Ramona,” the hand resting dangerously low on the small of her back trailed tighter once again, fingers dancing along the barely visible ridges of her spine, coming to brush a fistful of hair away from her shoulder.

“You didn’t come here last night for intel or a friendly chat.”

He was right. She hadn’t come to that dump for a talk or a therapy session or to go through the stack of files that now littered the motel room floor.

The first time she might have, the second time even; to talk to someone who didn’t know her, who didn’t know her family, her job, her fears, her insecurities. It was refreshing. _He_ was refreshing.

Now when she knocked on the door with the peeling paint and rusty hinges she didn’t want to talk. She was there to feel something other than disappointment, something other than the crushing weight of their investigation. Burke provided a certain kind of solace she couldn’t find anywhere else, a certain kind of peace only his arms, and lips, and half mumbled words against her skin could provide.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” The pads of his fingers played with a strand of her hair, twirling the dark lock between them slowly. “Wasn’t really in the talking mood.”

Ramona rolled her eyes, a smile finally breaking over her lips as she rolled over onto her back, not bothering to pull the sheet up as she stretched, joints creaking and hands flexing towards the ceiling.

“You seem to be in one now.”

Her grin turned coy as she looked back in his direction, watching his eyes trail over her. No one had ever looked at her the way he had, she watched his eyes dance from the top of her head to the middle of her stomach where the sheet had pooled and back up again, repeating the trail once more, the smile on his face never faltering.

He moved slow, predatory in pace, eyes never leaving hers when he pushed himself up, crawling the short distance that was between them and assuming a position that was all too familiar to her. Her cheeks burned, breath catching in the middle of her throat when he dipped his head to rest his lips on the hollow of her throat, trailing the expanse of her collarbones and down between the valley of her breasts.

If she hadn’t forgotten about their rendezvous and case before, she certainly was well on the way to forgetting that and her own name now. At the slightest hint of teeth scraping against her throat Ramona scratched her nails over the top of his head, down the back of his neck and over his shoulders, following the pattern of fading marks she had left the night before.

Burke’s moans were muffled as he brought his lips to hers quickly, not as bruising as the night before, but there was still a hint of desperation behind it.

“Shut me up then.” The mumble was barely audible against her lips, her own teeth nipping ever so gently at his bottom lip.

She wants to. She wants nothing more than to hang the telltale ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside of that aging door and knock Burke on his back to do what they had done last night. She wants to lose herself in him and listen to him speak nothing but her name in a chant so sacred that it's meant to befall her ears only. Last night he had touched her like a man starved, she would give anything to feel it again.

She knows Whitehorse is right; they have a lot of ground to cover, a lot of loose ends that need tying. They’d have time to waste later, if they were lucky.

Ramona glides her fingers over his shoulders one last time, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingertips, his mouth still slanted over hers, devouring.

“If you keep doing that, we’re _both_ going to be out of a job.”

She can’t help the soft chuckle that escapes her lips, fingers coming to glide down the sides of his face, and just as quickly he has them in his own calloused hand, pressing them against his lips. That familiar feeling in her pit of her stomach returned with a vengeance as he kissed the tip of each dainty digit, eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re right,” she breathes. “We should get moving.”

But neither of them moved, neither attempted to break from the other’s embrace.

_They’d have time to waste later_. If there’s one thing in this world that Ramona believes in it’s that nothing is promised; not the next five minutes, the next five hours, and certainly not tomorrow.

“One more for the road? Don’t know when we’ll have time for this again.”

Ramona caught the glint in his eyes and for the umpteenth time that morning she forgot how to breathe, forgot to speak – she was never speechless – and the whole world around them melted away. There was nothing else beyond this room in that moment. No mission, no cult, no overbearing bosses and nosey coworkers, no town on the brink of absolute collapse.

“Only if you think you’re up for it, old man.”

“Oh, I’m good for it.”


End file.
